Ambushed!
by Lynn's Stories
Summary: Lee and Harry work with Admiral Johnson to uncover an informer aboard Seaview as well as an ONI traitor. A RERUN and the third of four installments in my Edge of Doom Series.


A Fourth Season Story. The third installment of a four-part series based on the 4th season episode, the _Edge of Doom_. Story immediately follows _Double Deception_.

 **Ambushed!**

by Lynn

Lee moved carefully as he rolled out of bed; the knife wound inflicted by Foster was still painful and indeed less than a week had passed since he'd been stabbed in the side with the survival knife. He sat on the side of his bed holding his side and breathing heavily, he had hoped he could do without the pain pills today but he realized that he was being too optimistic. He stood slowly and moved to the bathroom resolving to take the hated pills and briefly considered cutting his dose in half, but wisely took both pills as the pain began to spike. He leaned with both palms resting flat on the bathroom counter and breathed, waiting for the relief to hit and then raised his head to look into the mirror. _You're getting old, Crane_ , he told himself and shook his head with a half-smile. He decided to skip the shower and changed into a pair of comfortable grey sweats and a t-shirt; he wasn't cleared for duty yet anyway. He managed to handle the barbeque last night at Chip's house without too much trouble but realized he probably over did it, but it was worth it. They all needed that time to completely put behind them the events of Seaview's last mission where Harry, Chip and Chief Sharkey had engaged in some inventive "mind games" in an effort to flush out what they thought was an imposter posing as Lee, only the imposter turned out to be "Sharkey". The mission had left Lee weary and sporting hurt feelings but understanding the tough position Harry had been placed in, having been ordered to "break" the imposter without questioning him. Then on the heels of both Chip and Harry's apologies, Lee was called away on an ONI mission to pose as the actual Crane Imposter in an effort to bring down the organization behind the impersonations. The mission was a success, except for the two inch slice trying to heal on his side.

He moved downstairs heading for the coffee pot, already brewing automatically on timer. _Thank God for Mr. Coffee_ , he quipped silently, pouring a cup and taking his first drink as he looked out the kitchen window overlooking the beach. The morning was beautiful, but Lee really wasn't seeing the gorgeous blue skies meeting the ocean horizon, or the waves lapping in white billows onto the beach. The mission was a success as the commandos cleaned up the bad guys' hideout as well as Foster's headquarters, but everything wasn't wrapped up in a nice little bow this time. Lee took another swallow and thought back to the box he had sifted through in the hideout, his imposter's homework to _become_ Lee Crane. There was far too much information on the interpersonal relationships of the Command Crew. Someone had access to information that could only be obtained first hand, and by someone on Seaview no less.

Lee poured a warm up on his coffee and headed to the living room picking up the phone and dialing a familiar number by heart.

"Hello?"

Lee smiled at Monica's chipper voice and the playful sounds in the background of Chip and Monica's baby girl, Megan.

"Hi Monica."

"Good morning, Lee."

"Has Chip left for the Institute yet?"

"No, I'll get him. By the way, do you need me to pick up anything for you at the grocery store?"

"Thanks, but I'll place an order with Ranchers, they'll pull the order and deliver it for me."

"Okay, but if you need anything just ask. And remember you're still on weight restriction so no picking up heavy things."

"Yes mother," Lee deadpanned with the smile on his face apparent in his voice; if Chip was his all-but brother than he'd picked up a sister when Chip married Monica. She laughed and called for Chip as Lee lowered himself carefully to sit on the sofa.

"Hi Lee."

"Hey Chip. Would you mind stopping by here before heading into work this morning?"

"You're not cleared for duty yet," Chip countered.

Lee rolled his eyes, "I'm sitting here in my sweats and haven't even showered today, so it's a safe bet I'm not looking for a ride."

"Alright, I'll see you in about fifteen minutes," Chip answered with a half-chuckle that Lee returned lightly.

They said their goodbyes as Lee pondered the information in the box. Flashbacks of another double two years ago replayed in his mind. The actor played him so well that both Harry and Chip had been fooled as he interacted flawlessly with his best friends. The Double would have pulled it off, had he not been called upon to make a course change that exceeded his abilities to maneuver the submarine. The more Lee thought about it the more he was convinced; Seaview had a spy on board.

# # # # #

"Hey Lee. How're you doing this morning?" Chip asked casually as he entered the door Lee was holding open for him.

"I'm okay. A little sore today though."

"Well that's to be expected. It's been... what? Five days since the surgery?"

He nodded in agreement as they moved to the living room to sit as Lee got down to business.

"Chip, I need you to get Tank working on something right away."

Chip nodded and leaned forward as Lee continued. "I told you about that box I found with research on my life?" Lee barely waited for Chip's acknowledgement. "I've come to the conclusion that only somebody aboard Seaview could have witnessed the details of the relationship between the Command Crew."

"What about at the Institute?"

"Not with the information I read, they even had my interactions with Jamie down pat."

"So you think we've got a spy aboard?"

"More like a crewman gone rogue, selling us out for cash maybe."

Chip nodded in agreement, Lee had too much experience dealing with the espionage world to doubt his assumptions.

"So, how do you want me to handle this?" Chip asked leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees in a move that accentuated the seriousness of the matter.

"Have Tank start a quiet investigation, the information I saw went back over two years."

Chip's eyes widened. "You mean that double two years ago is related to this organization?"

Lee nodded, "I'm sure of it. One of the entries noted my hands-on help in upgrading the torpedo directional devices."

Chip blew out a whistle and leaned back, understanding the timing of the last upgrade completed aboard Seaview matched Lee's supposition, as subsequent torpedoes came retrofitted from the manufacturer.

"So you want Tank to do some quiet checking?"

"Yeah, let's take the paper trail to begin with. Have him dig around Personnel first; I don't want to spook the informant."

"Do you think he'll stick around now that the organization's fallen?"

Lee reached for his side as he thought. "There's one thing I've learned about bad guys, Chip; there's always a third party willing to step into the gap. If the crewman ratted on us once, he'll likely be very approachable for more work in the future. I want this leak sealed," Lee finished flatly.

Chip nodded, pursing his lips in likewise determination as he stood.

"Don't bother to get up, you look comfortable," Chip offered noting Lee's hand across his middle. "I'll get Tank started on it."

"Very well. Thanks Chip."

"No problem." Chip started for the door and turned back toward Lee. "Monica says she's sending over lasagna tonight, should keep you in meals for a couple of days."

Lee smiled. "She doesn't have to do that, but... her lasagna _does_ sound good," he added as his smile widened.

"See you, Lee," Chip said adding his own smile and closing the door behind him as Lee stood, taking his mug to the kitchen for a refill of coffee.

# # # # #

"Simpson?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Let's just say that I'm a friend of Foster's."

Ralph Simpson shuffled from one foot to the next in a nervous stance. "Where's Foster?"

"Getting ready to do 15-20 years," the voice on the phone quipped back.

"What do you mean?" Simpson asked, needing things spelled out a bit more plainly to fully grasp what was going on.

"Foster and his organization have been shut down but that doesn't mean that _your_ gravy train has to stop."

Simpson licked his bottom lip, "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

"Don't play dumb with me Simpson, I'm even higher up than Foster and I can use your information if you're still willing to sell it."

"What if I'm ready to bail out?"

"Suit yourself, but those gambling debts keep piling up, don't they? I'm pretty sure we can have a mutually satisfying business relationship."

"All right. I'll give you my bank account number."

"Got it already; I put five grand in to show my good faith."

Simpson's leeriness faded at the sound of five thousand dollars as his smile widened. "What kind of information are you looking for?"

"Your target is the same, but I'm not interested in Crane's eating habits or his late night walks around his sub. I want to know anything interesting regarding national security, secret projects or anything out of the ordinary that Crane is involved in. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah, same as before; I don't sneak around the boat, you get what comes up as I work my duty stations. It works best that way... Crane has a lot of people watching his back."

"Agreed. For now you can reach me by my pager, you'll be paid based on how relevant the information is to me."

"Fine, Mr...?"

"Just call me Vortex."

With that the phone went dead as Simpson replaced the receiver. He had reported everything he could think of to Foster and there hadn't been too much to disclose lately, except that Nelson seemed unhappy with Crane for much of the last cruise; but he wouldn't report that unless it was a new trend. Then there was some scuttlebutt about Chief Sharkey being an imposter, but since he was being paid for info on Crane, he hadn't thought too much about it. He heard that Crane was on sick leave again, but that wasn't anything new either. No new information, meant no new money in the bank account; so maybe this Vortex guy was a good thing. He was getting tired of reporting which way Crane buttered his bread anyway... _secret stuff, national security,_ now _that_ was sounding more interesting, and much more profitable. His smile widened as he pondered which tables he wanted to visit on his next trip to Vegas.

# # # # #

"Vortex" lowered the phone and removed the anti-bugging devices that kept his calls secure even in his office at ONI. He'd been taken by surprise to return from leave and find that a sting operation had taken place while he was in Tahiti. Johnson laid out the perfect sting, and with Crane's help, Foster's organization had been swept clean... almost. He smiled at that thought. While he was on his payroll from time to time, he wasn't _owned_ by Foster. They simply had a symbiotic relationship that worked for each of their own goals. Foster's goal had never fully been disclosed to him, but he'd been working on replacing Crane with a double for the last few years now, the first attempt having failed with the actor taking a cyanide pill to avoid capture. Apparently, while he was on leave Foster's second double attempt was foiled by Crane himself. _Fine_. He really didn't care what convoluted plan Foster had to rule the world; what he wanted was something a bit more _tangible_.

He smiled to himself, pleased to have his Seaview connection secured through Simpson and carried on, business-as-usual.

# # # # #

Lee was glad to be back aboard Seaview, having missed one cruise while his side healed. The last six weeks hadn't produced any solid leads on their "informer," but Tank did have a few ratings he was interested in. Chief Sharkey had been enlisted to keep a watchful eye on the crewmen, as it was the most natural way to watch the ratings without tipping their hand. Three men were of particular interest; Pascal who had recently bought a new car so far out of his spending league, that Tank thought he bore a little scrutiny; Barnett who had since two years ago, began racking up a tremendous amount of medical bills caring for an aging parent; and Simpson who was rumored to win "some" and lose "big" regularly in Vegas. Tank didn't have access to their bank accounts, so the ratings weren't necessarily suspect to any wrong doing; it was simply a place to start without stirring up a lot of questions among the crew, and spooking the Informer into silence. There wasn't much else to do but move on, and hope that the Informer made a mistake that Sharkey and Tank could capitalize on; whoever it may be.

Lee positioned himself at the chart table as the duty stations reported their readiness to dive, having navigated past the break waters in their home port of Santa Barbara.

"All green, Sir."

"Very well. Dive Mr. Morton."

"Aye Sir. Dive all dive."

The klaxons rang loudly as the ballast tanks were flooded and the planes were lowered to glide the boat under the surface as Lee surveyed the dive from the periscope.

"Deck's awash. Bow's under," he said, then turning 180 degrees and looking aft. "Stern gone," he finished slapping the handles back into their upright position and stepping down from the periscope island.

"Take us out to sea, Mr. Morton."

"Aye Sir," Chip replied handily as Lee checked his coordinates for the island lab they would be visiting on their first leg of the mission. He tore the coordinates off his pad and handed it to Chip.

"Set this course Chip, run us at Standard."

"Aye Skipper," Chip replied with a hint of satisfaction at Lee's return to Seaview. Lee's injury had delayed his return from the previous mission, and it felt good to be back on an even keel.

Lee returned Chip's sentiment with a small smile. "You have the Con, Mr. Morton. I'm going to take a little walk."

Chip acknowledged realizing full well that Lee intended to walk the boat from stem to stern. He'd been away for over a month and a half, and Chip knew he needed to reconnect with his Lady and the crew.

# # # # #

"Coffee, Sir?"

Lee looked up from the Captain's Log book he was making entries in, and answered evenly. "Thanks, Simpson."

Simpson smiled and poured the coffee into the empty mug on the conference table as Captain Crane worked in the nose. Lee for his part smiled his thanks, and returned to his work as Simpson poured the fresh pot into the carafe on the coffee cart under Seaview's windows. Simpson took one last look and headed aft with his empty coffee pot to return to the galley.

Lee raised his eyes and watched Simpson leave the Control Room.

"Chip," he said calling his XO over quietly.

"Aye Sir?" Chip answered after closing the distance from the chart table to the nose.

Lee motioned for Chip to join him in a cup of coffee.

"I thought Simpson was stationed in the missile room," Lee asked quietly, taking a sip of steaming hot coffee.

"He was," Chip replied; on top of his game and knowing exactly where he placed the rating on the duty roster.

"Let me check with Sharkey," Chip offered and moved to the duty station the COB was overseeing.

"A word, Chief."

"Aye Sir," Sharkey replied as they moved to the chart table.

"Simpson was just in on an errand from the galley."

"Aye Sir. He offered to pull double duty when Schneider fell ill this week. I uh... thought it best to give him a little room, Sir," Sharkey explained.

"Very well. I concur, but notify me of any other reassignments he takes."

"Aye Sir," Sharkey nodded with his typical "can-do" attitude.

"Very well, carry on."

Chip returned to the table in the nose and sat, seemingly to finish his cup of coffee, as he and Lee talked casually.

"Simpson volunteered to take double duty when a crewman fell ill," he reported efficiently.

Lee nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Conveniently puts him in the nose from time to time..."

"As well as the wardroom," Chip finished, as he and Lee were apparently on the same page.

"Exactly. Chip, stop by my cabin in an hour," Lee ordered quietly, closing the Captain's Log and gulping the last of his coffee.

"Aye Sir," Chip added as Lee stood and returned the log to the Chart Table, and then left by way of the spiral stairs.

Chip took his mug over to the chart table and surveyed the Control Room, taking a moment to look down at his watch and noting the time.

# # # # #

Simpson carried the coffee pot back to the galley. _Dry run_ , he thought silently. The Captain hadn't been working on anything exciting at the conference table, but his recent loss at the crap tables had necessitated he'd be a little proactive, especially since Crane missed the last cruise. He hadn't had anything new to report, and therefore no new funds, something that needed to change if he were to stay above water. He'd have to keep an ear open tonight when he pulled steward duty in the galley, he might pick up on something to give Vortex. Simpson nodded to himself and proceeded aft, if nothing else he'd get an extra helping from Cookie tonight for his trouble.

# # # # #

Lee returned to his cabin and sat down with a sigh, thinking through his options. Of the three ratings Tank identified as "of interest," Simpson was his greatest suspect. He trusted Barnett, and if anything the rating's dedication to his aging father was commendable, with no hint of wrong doing. In fact, Lee was checking into an extended insurance program the Institute could participate in, and perhaps grandfather Barnett in on. It wasn't unheard of for an insurance company to weigh the cost of the pre-existing condition in order to win a lucrative opportunity to provide insurance to the Institute's many employees. He had already run it by Harry, and Human Resources was working out the details now. Then there was Pascal's new pricey Corvette. Lee had taken the opportunity to talk "muscle car shop" with the rating, and discovered a well-balanced, and financially sound young man who had indeed splurged on the 'Vette but had his ducks in a row, handling the payments just fine as he was single and still living with his parents.

That left Simpson, not that being a known gambler made him guilty, but he had to agree with Tank on the other 122 ratings and their loyalties. It was harder to gauge Simpson's loyalties. He was one of those crewman who did his job but offered no more than what was required of him; not like his Go-To Team, who could be counted on to do whatever needed to be done without prodding. In fact, Simpson could be compared to a crewman that died two years ago on Dinosaur Island. Benson was a known "goldbricker" always looking for the easy duty and _never_ volunteering for extra duty when needed. Sadly, it was this propensity to view his work so casually that compelled the rating to switch duties with Grady. While Benson took the softest watch on the boat, Grady worked below and unfortunately, perished when Seaview was damaged by a great sea beast and Lee was forced to seal the hatch over the crewman to save the boat.

Lee sighed; it was an unhappy memory especially since Benson blamed the Captain and not himself for Grady's death; the result was a vengeful attempt on Lee's life while on the rescue mission to Dinosaur Island. That's the part that got Lee's attention; like Benson, Simpson usually _never_ took extra duty. The red flags were waving profusely as Lee decided to test Simpson. Perhaps the crewman was finally getting "on board" with the spirit of Seaview's other crewmen, _or_ perhaps Simpson was looking for something new to sell.

He thumbed the intercom on and spoke directly to Sparks without using the boat com system.

"Sparks this is the Captain."

"Aye Sir."

"Patch me through to Admiral Johnson at ONI. I need a secure channel and a direct line with the Admiral. Use my personal code to authenticate the request and patch it here to my cabin."

"Aye Sir, I'll get right on it," Sparks answered as Lee thumbed off his intercom.

# # # # #

"I need something real enough to be verified, but harmless if it gets sold," Lee suggested, leaning over his desk to take the call by video conference.

"Very well," Johnson returned, thinking on his feet and improvising a plan. "Let's call it Firefly IV."

"After the sea to air laser program?"

"Aye, only there is no Firefly IV. The project has stalled on Firefly III, the next level is being implemented under a totally different call sign, but it's not common knowledge around DC. If it's offered up for sale, someone will buy it."

"Very well, I'll drop the name at dinner tonight. The crewman has positioned himself to be handy in the wardroom."

"Good. I'll send over some mock drawings, it'll look convincing, but will be totally harmless; based on an unworkable prototype," Johnson assured Lee.

"Another thing, Crane, I'll need the crewman's name to verify his bank accounts."

Lee pursed his bottom lip. He was reasonably sure or he wouldn't have called Johnson, he only hoped he was right as Simpson's privacy was about to be invaded by nothing more than his hunch.

"Simpson, Ralph A."

"Social security number?" Johnson inquired with pencil in hand.

Lee opened the file on his desk and recited the number.

"Very well Commander. Keep me apprised of any developments."

"Aye Sir."

Johnson severed the connection as Lee sat back studying the black screen before him. If he was wrong, he owed Simpson an apology, one that could never be vocalized, but if he was right...

A knock interrupted his thoughts as Lee straightened and answered.

"Come," he answered and then greeted his Executive Officer.

"Come on in Chip. Have a seat."

# # # # #

Captain Lee Crane sat hunched over the table in the Wardroom in deep thought as he studied the schematics before him.

"Another cup of coffee, Sir?" Simpson asked.

"Aye, and thanks Simpson."

"No problem, Captain," Simpson answered as Lee's attention went back to the schematics and Simpson poured the coffee taking a peek over the captain's shoulder. He backed off when Chip walked in and turned to another table, listening to the officers' conversation behind him while pouring warm-ups to the junior officer's mugs.

"Is that the new Firefly Laser?" Chip asked taking a seat.

"Yes. It looks like Seaview is going to be fitted with the latest for testing, a Firefly IV."

Chip blew a whistle in mock amazement. "Wow. That ought to pack a punch."

"It will. It's top secret right now; I'm just looking over the schematics for the retrofit."

"Well, are you ready to put away your work Captain and get down to the business of dinner?" Chip asked with a chuckle.

Lee closed his folder, tucked it under his arm and replied, "Lead the way, Mr. Morton."

# # # # #

Simpson hit a gold mine. After his watch in the galley was finished he found a quiet spot in the stores and pulled out the communication device Vortex had sent by courier. It looked like something from a James Bond movie, and made Simpson feel like a real "spy" as he powered on the device.

"This is Vortex. I thought you were at sea?"

"Does the name Firefly IV mean anything to you?"

"You mean Firefly III."

"No, I mean Four. Seaview's going to test the new top secret lasers."

"When?"

"I don't know yet, I just wanted to see what it was worth to you."

There was a short silence then, "Five thousand for the information you just gave me. Fifty grand for the plans, _or_ the laser itself."

"Only fifty?"

"Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it. Crane has schematics, but if I take them he'll know something's up."

"Then take pictures of them. You still have the camera I sent?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, your fifty grand is almost as good as got."

Simpson ran a nervous tongue over his bottom lip. He really hadn't signed on for real spy work, but fifty grand was a little hard to pass up.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good. Vortex out."

Simpson signed off and stuffed his small communication's device inside his pant pocket. He checked his wrist watch and nodded to himself. All he needed was to wait for Crane to take his nightly walk, and then he'd see about the pictures. Once he had the goods he'd negotiate for more money, anyone could tell that what he had was big.

# # # # #

"And you're _sure_ about the transmission?" Lee asked as Sparks nodded.

"Aye Sir. Weber here was on duty, but he recorded the anomaly and called me. It's a piggy back transmission using our own radio antennae, and designed to look like echo transmissions. Quite sophisticated," Sparks added.

Lee nodded, biting his bottom lip in a familiar move when he was deep in thought.

"How long did the transmission last?"

"About three minutes."

"Very well. You both did an excellent job. I'm familiar with the device and it's not easy to spot," he complimented. "This information is to be considered classified. Brief the rest of your team on what to look for, but under no circumstance will you attempt to interrupt the transmission."

"Aye Sir."

Lee added a pat to Sparks' shoulder as he stepped away from the radio shack. It was almost time for his nightly walk about the boat, and if he hadn't missed his guess, his cabin was going to receive a visitor.

# # # # #

Simpson carried the tray with a cup of Cookie's hot chocolate, made especially for the Skipper. He smiled at his ingenuity. All he had to do was mention that the Captain looked a little worn down and maybe wasn't sleeping so good. That's all it took for Cookie to whip up a batch of his homemade cocoa, complete with whip cream drizzled with chocolate syrup.

He knocked on the door, and smiled when there was no reply. Just as he expected; Crane was walking around the boat making sure all the screws were tightened properly. His sarcastic thought born out of watching every nuance he could find to report to Foster, he never knew why. It didn't matter just as long as he got paid. Simpson entered the cabin with the excuse of delivering the cocoa and shut the door behind him. He placed the tray on the desk and looked around the desk top, starting to perspire when he didn't see the folder and moved to the front of the desk to check the drawers. He'd be out of luck if Crane put it in the wall safe. He smiled broadly when he opened the second drawer and found what he was looking for.

Simpson laid the folder flat on the desk and pulled out a nearly flat camera and began taking quick pictures of each page in the folder. He divided his attention on any possible sounds in the corridor, and continued to click away until he photographed the entire contents. Quickly, he tapped the papers on the desk top, evening the edges and replaced the folder into the drawer. He slid the camera back into his blue jumpsuit pocket and walked to the door, stopping to rub his hands on his pant legs as they were wet from sweat. Then took a deep breath and opened the door ready to leave but instead, came face to face with Captain Crane.

"Simpson?" Lee asked in mock surprise.

"Yes Sir," Simpson said taking a deep breath and remembering he had a good "reason" for being here. "I was just delivering a mug of cocoa from the galley, Sir; compliments of Cookie."

Lee's eyes trailed to the desk as the smell of the rich cocoa filled the cabin.

"Sounds good, thanks," Lee offered easily and stepped aside to let Simpson pass. Simpson nodded and left, grateful to have escaped Crane's cabin without suspicion.

Lee closed the door behind him and walked to his desk, pulling the file from his desk drawer and examining the contents. He had placed the papers in a very specific pattern in the folder, with every other page protruding about one quarter of an inch higher than the rest of the papers. As expected the papers had been tapped and evened before being replaced in the folder. It was a crude, but effective "spy" trick as Lee picked up his cocoa and took a drink. He had plenty of reasons to believe that Simpson was the Informer, but now another question was pressing; _Just who was he selling the information to now that Foster was out of the picture?_ He had an idea where to start, but he'd wait until tomorrow to contact Johnson.

# # # # #

"Chip, prepare to dock FS1."

"Aye Sir."

Lee watched through Seaview's window as the flying sub approached with Admiral Harriman Nelson piloting the craft skillfully into the bay.

"Good morning, Sir," Lee greeted as Harry ascended the ladder.

"Good morning, Lee," Harry returned, glad to be back aboard and taking a deep satisfying breath in.

"Everything in order?" Harry asked casually as he shrugged off his leather flight jacket and handed it to a rating.

"Aye Sir. I _do_ have some reports I'd like to go over with you at your earliest convenience," Lee returned.

Harry's forehead furled only slightly, but then relaxed. "Very well, let's get to work."

Lee nodded. "You have the Con, Mr. Morton."

Chip acknowledged as Lee followed Harry up the spiral stairs to Officer's Country.

# # # # #

"Now, Lee. What's this all about?" Harry inquired, having entered the cabin and lowering himself into his desk chair.

"Admiral, we've uncovered the Informer aboard Seaview."

"You're sure?" Harry asked, leaning forward in interest.

"Aye Sir. At first it was just a hunch, but enough so that I contacted Admiral Johnson. We laid out bait and Simpson took it."

Harry leaned back, he was fully aware of Lee's suspicions and which ratings were of the highest interest in Chief Thompson's investigation.

"Simpson volunteered for extra duty in the galley when a crewman fell ill," Lee explained as Harry nodded, understanding immediately that this particular seaman didn't usually volunteer for anything. "Chip and I laid out bogus plans of the Firefly IV in the Wardroom."

"But there is no Firefly IV," Harry added.

"Aye Sir. Johnson provided schematics of a false prototype to show off, and we dropped the words "top secret" to get his attention. He took the bait. I found him in my cabin delivering cocoa from Cookie. I checked the file, it had been disturbed. I'm sure he got photos somehow."

"Very circumstantial."

"I agree Sir. That's why Johnson asked for his identity to verify his bank accounts."

Harry blew a disgusted breath. "Lee, are you sure? You just opened up an Institute employee to ONI's scrutiny you know?"

"I know Sir, I didn't do it lightly and there's something else you should know."

Harry leaned forward again as Lee continued. "Sparks picked up two transmissions piggy backing on our own radio. One just after we laid out the bait, the other not long after Simpson left my cabin."

Harry nodded in agreement with Lee's conclusion; circumstantial evidence to be sure, but very convincing nonetheless.

"What concerns me the most, Sir, is the technology that was required to send a transmission from our present depth. Sir, I recognized the frequency that was used, it has ONI's signature."

Harry blew out a breath and leaned back. "You were convinced two years ago that ONI had a leak," he stated rather than asked.

"Aye Sir. Someone _knew_ about that ONI mission, and even the exact point where I'd be waiting for the extraction."

"So he's laid low for a while, and now with Foster out of the way has decided to ramp up his underhanded dealings."

"That's my guess, Sir."

"Alright Lee, let's get Johnson up to date with this information. I'm not inclined to keep an Informer around the Boat for very long. I want it wrapped up as soon as possible."

"I agree Sir."

# # # # #

The cruise proceeded as planned, since Johnson didn't want to spook Simpson. They needed him to deliver the photos he took, and lead them to the ONI traitor. Simpson's bank account confirmed several large deposits originating from Switzerland, where the paper trail ended. Lee and Harry were careful to keep Simpson confined to non-critical areas of the Boat, and the rating hadn't volunteered for anymore duty having apparently gotten what he wanted. Three weeks passed as Seaview navigated its way into Groton, part of the cover story that she was to be retrofitted with the "new" Firefly IV lasers for testing.

The crew was given a two day shore leave and Simpson was left to ONI to handle as Harry, Lee and Chip feigned a fake retrofit on the sub.

# # # # #

Simpson hailed a cab and got in placing his jacket on the seat beside him.

"Where to buddy?"

He leaned forward and handed the cabby a paper. "You know this bank?"

"Sure buddy, I hear there's a 'whirlwind' of activity there," he replied looking back at his passenger through the rear view mirror and waiting for the correct reply.

"Nothing like the 'cyclone' I've just been through," Simpson replied as the cabby smiled recognizing the code word, a synonym for Vortex and leaned over to start the meter. Less than twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to a multi-story financial institution as Simpson leaned forward to pay the fare then left, leaving behind his jacket in the back seat.

The cab pulled away, drove two blocks and entered an underground parking lot. He parked the cab, pulled the camera from Simpson's jacket and traded cars, leaving the underground lot in less than three minutes.

# # # # #

" _The target is entering the bank."_

" _Stay close, watch for the transfer."_

" _Yes Sir. Wait a minute... he's not wearing his jacket."_

" _Stay with your target, I'll put assets on the cab."_

Simpson left the bank having withdrawn five thousand, via a wire transfer from his local bank in California. He wouldn't get the fifty grand until Vortex got the goods, but this was enough to get started on as he left the bank and hailed another cab.

"Where to friend?"

"To the nearest casino. I feel lucky," Simpson replied with a smile.

# # # # #

"We lost sight of the cab for only a few minutes. We found it abandoned with Simpson's jacket still in the back seat," Johnson relayed as Harry slapped the desk in front of him in disgust.

"Blast it Gerald, we gave him to you on a silver platter," Harry bellowed in a fashion only an Admiral of like stars could get away with.

"It was a serious blunder, I concede that," Johnson said pursing his lips tightly.

"Then again, it only goes to prove that we were right," Lee interjected. "The hand-off was completely clean. It was a professional job planned by someone who knows his business, not something Simpson would have come up with on his own," Lee added.

Johnson leaned back as Harry cooled off and sighed deeply.

"I agree Commander," Johnson said, concurring with Lee's implication that the contact could very well be the rogue ONI leak that sold Lee out two years ago.

"For now..." Johnson was interrupted by a buzz from his receptionist.

"Sir, I have the call you were waiting for."

"Thank you Miss Green, patch it through."

Johnson greeted his caller and listened. "Very well, I'll contact you with further instructions."

"Well," Johnson started, setting the receiver down on the hook as he spoke, "It's a pretty sure bet that the drop-off was indeed made; Simpson's account is fifty thousand dollars richer as of ten minutes ago."

Harry and Lee nodded as Johnson continued. "But the trail isn't cold yet. We gave the traitor a bad laser. If he sells it, he'll be in hot water with his buyers. I'll keep my ear to the ground and see what chatter Firefly IV drums up; there's still a good chance we can seal this leak."

"Sir, may I suggest you cross reference any current personnel who were active two years ago when I was switched with the double."

Johnson nodded. "I've already got someone working that angle, Commander. As you know, the list of ONI personnel from operatives to support staff is a lengthy list, particularly covering two years. I've got a very small but trusted staff working on the research; they should have something for me tomorrow. Report here tomorrow morning and we'll go over their findings."

"Aye Sir," Lee replied.

"Very well, Gerald," Harry said, standing to take his leave as Lee followed suit. "In the meanwhile, we'll take Simpson back into the 'fold,' but I'm not going to keep him around forever. Let's get this thing cleaned up."

Johnson offered a small one-sided smile, as not too many people got away with talking so bluntly to ONI's Director.

"That's my plan, Harriman," he replied, and then returned the sharp salute offered by Commander Crane.

# # # # #

"Hello Miss Green," Captain Phillip Nicolo offered, sitting comfortably on the corner of the receptionist's desk. "Is the Admiral in?"

"Yes, but he's in conference," she added with a smile to the dark headed naval captain, his fit and sculptured physique having always been of interest to the pretty blond.

"Very well. I just wanted to verify the Deputy Director's meeting tomorrow," he added with a flashy smile that caused Olivia Green's heart to skip a beat.

"Yes," she answered, opening her appointment book to verify the time as the door to Johnson's office opened with Admiral Nelson and Commander Crane exiting. Captain Nicolo slid off the corner of her desk deftly to stand in proper decorum in the presence of a four-star admiral.

"Hello Phil," Lee greeted warmly with a hand shake.

"Hey Lee. I didn't know you were in town?"

"Just getting some work done in Groton, had time to add DC into the visit," Lee answered with vague details.

"I'll meet you downstairs, Lee," Harry interjected.

"Aye Sir. I'll be right down," he replied then addressed the receptionist. "Miss Green, Admiral Johnson wants to see me tomorrow morning."

His request was accompanied by a polite smile that softened the classic angular lines of his face and produced a silent "wow" from the thirtyish receptionist, currently enjoying the presence of both naval officers.

"Let's see... eleven hundred hours?" She asked after checking her appointment book. Before the end of the day, she would type the Admiral's appointments on her word processor/typewriter, the newest in office equipment, and have it ready for him before he left the office.

"1100 it is," Lee answered and turned back to Nicolo.

"Got to run. See you Phil."

"Bye Lee. Stay out of trouble."

"Don't I always?" Lee offered with a grin, to which Nicolo just added a " _You've got to be kidding"_ look, as the two officers shared a private joke amongst themselves and Lee took his leave.

Miss Green took a stealth glance admiring Commander Crane's exit from the back side and then handily returned to the appointment book.

"Here it is Captain, 1000 hours tomorrow morning," she replied happy to turn her attention back to Greek hunk standing before her.

"Fine, I'll let Admiral Perkins know," Nicolo said regarding his boss' meeting in the morning. "See you later, Sunshine," he added in familiarity and left. He headed to his office, one of the best in the complex as the Deputy Director's right hand man, though he was in deep thought wondering just why Nelson and Crane had showed up so serendipitously after Simpson's drop-off. He thought perhaps Simpson hadn't gotten the photos as cleanly as he thought; the guy might be a mechanical whiz but he wasn't close to the caliber of an ONI operative and had probably gotten sloppy. It wasn't anything to worry about though, there wasn't anything to tie Simpson to himself except a pager number that had been ran through so many filters it would take all of ONI's decryption department to trace it down. Even then, they'd find it registered to a homeless DC whino who had easily agreed to open the account for a new bottle.

Nicolo headed back to his office, eager to check his bank account for the five million dollar deposit promised once the plans for Firefly IV were verified.

# # # # #

Lee took the elevator downstairs and thought about Johnson's search into ONI personnel who were active both two years ago and now. It was possible it wasn't even the same traitor, but not likely. Though Operatives were assigned for long-term positions, support personnel often rotated out in two to three year appointments, so the list would give them a good place to start. Coincidently, Phil Nicolo was one of those personnel who would make the list. Lee took in the thought and dismissed it. He and Phil had a history in the field; they had covered one another's sixes on more than one occasion. _No, not Phil_ , he thought as the elevator reached its destination floor and he deboarded.

"Ready?" Harry asked with a gleam in his eye.

"Aye Sir," Lee replied, wondering just what Harry was up to.

"I've got us two rooms booked and a reservation for dinner tonight at Ardano's," Harry enlightened Lee. "Tuxes are in order tonight, my Lad."

Lee blew out a whistle; Ardano's was the place for the rich, the famous and the jet set; and reservations weren't usually had for the same evening so easily. Lee let loose a little smile as he adjusted his cover over his head.

"Shouldn't we have dates to go with our tuxes?"

"Already been taken care of," Harry replied.

Lee raised an eyebrow in question.

"Don't you trust me?" Harry quipped having already placed his cover on as Lee opened the door for Harry to exit.

"Explicitly Admiral," Lee answered honestly and left ONI's offices. If they were going to be stuck in DC overnight, they might as well enjoy it.

# # # # #

Captain Phil Nicolo walked back to his office in a good mood. This was his first big score. In the past he had worked through Foster and netted far less for his goods. This time there was no middleman. He sat down and checked his pager, finding the call he'd been waiting for. Phil pulled open his bottom drawer and moved the hanging files to reveal the anti-bugging pieces he would replace on his telephone receiver. His calls were safe from the on-going electronics sweeps made routinely throughout the building. He dialed the number and waited.

"This is Vortex," he said smoothly, enjoying the feel of being in control.

"No deal, Vortex," the voice on the other side replied without greeting, as Nicolo leaned over on the desk with his eyebrows creased.

"Come now, it's worth an easy five million," he countered ready to negotiate.

"It _would_ be if it was worth anything." The voice on the other end let out a humorless chuckle. "There _is_ no Firefly IV. The Firefly project has been shelved to make room for the Bonfire series," he added matter of factly. "Foster always produced good stuff, I think you've overestimated your importance, Vortex."

"But the schematics?" Nicolo asked in obvious confusion.

"Nothing but mumbo-jumbo from a failed prototype of several years ago."

"It can't be," Nicolo muttered out.

"Someone's on to you Vortex, and you're of no more value to me. Our business relationship is terminated, stay out of my way or you will be too," the caller added as the phone went dead.

Nicolo hung up shakily almost forgetting to replace the regular ear and mouth pieces back on his receiver. _Was it true? Were they on to a leak at ONI?_ He hastily shoved his equipment back in its hidden place and decided to take a little stroll around the ONI offices to see what was being worked on; particularly what _hadn't_ crossed his desk.

# # # # #

Phil Nicolo entered his DC apartment shutting the door and leaning heavily against it in a near frantic move of exasperation. A list had been generated, one that he was on; all personnel active two years ago and through today. The list was raw, data only, apparently the reason Lee was being called in again for the meeting in the morning, as he was particularly good at solving these kinds of puzzles. Phil surmised by the secrecy of how the list was generated, that only a handful of people knew about the Leak. _Maybe he could still salvage this mess._ Johnson had been around forever, sooner or later the old man was going to retire and then everyone would bump up. His boss would surely get the nod for the Director's position and he would be promoted up to Rear Admiral to take the Deputy Director position.

Nicolo walked forward toward the window overlooking the street below some four stories up. Johnson was using limited resources to flush out the Leak, which meant that if he stopped the investigation from the top it could very well be lost as it was likely that only Johnson and Lee were fully aware of the entire story; everyone else would be investigating with fragmented information.

He had to stop the meeting. He knew how it worked: first personnel with limited access to top secret information would be weeded out. Then the remaining list would be cross-referenced with failed missions; then the list would be counter-referenced with successful missions coinciding to personnel's absences and leaves. There would be other filters and the list would shrink down with his name glaring at the top.

He shook his head to himself as a plan began to formulate and his concerned expression was replaced with a broad confident smile.

# # # # #

Lee entered the receptionist's office and greeted the Deputy Director as he and his aide Captain Phillip Nicolo were leaving their meeting.

"Admiral Perkins," he greeted holding his cover neatly tucked under his arm.

"Commander Crane," the admiral greeted warmly and left as Phil stepped up.

"Hey Lee. Twice in one week!" He said with a familiar pat on the shoulder as he passed.

"Just lucky I guess," Lee quipped back with a smile of his own.

"Don't let the squids squeeze tight," Phil added as he rounded the corner; a private joke among the two officers born out of a mission where Lee pulled Nicolo's six out of the fire. They spent two days in a cave waiting for their extraction as Lee tended Phil's injuries. Lee had entertained the former operative with some unclassified stories from Seaview to keep Phil's mind off a painful bullet wound he had sustained. Phil had a hard time believing some stories, but was especially fond of Lee's first mission aboard Seaview, and the running joke of "Don't let the squids squeeze tight" was a play on words to the familiar phrase, "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Lee chuckled, as Miss Green looked on at the playful exchange between the two officers with her own smile. _Some days she really enjoyed her job,_ she thought silently.

"Admiral Johnson will see you now, Commander," she offered professionally.

"Thank you, Miss Green," Lee replied and entered the office.

# # # # #

"Come in Commander. Have a seat," Johnson greeted, returning Lee's salute with a short Admiral's salute.

Lee sat down and placed his cover on the corner of the admiral's desk as Johnson handed a folder over.

"I half-expected Harriman to be here as well," Johnson said, not that he had required his presence at the meeting, it was just that Gerald knew all too well Nelson's predisposition to fatherly overtures where Lee Crane was concerned.

"No Sir. He's working on some Seaview projects in his hotel room," Lee answered politely as he looked over the names on the list.

Lee perused the list and began making notes when something caught his attention. He paused and listened then followed his eyes to the source of the familiar sound coming from a briefcase stashed under Johnson's desk. The sound of the ticking turned critical as the cadence changed, something every ONI Operative was familiar with as the standard issued timer gave the operative a five second warning of the impending blast.

"Hit the deck, Sir!" Lee yelled as he reached for the briefcase and swung it toward the window. Johnson barely had time to rise from his chair as Lee flew across the desk, tackling Johnson to the ground, covering him with his own body as the explosion ripped through the window sending glass and debris flying everywhere.

# # # # #

A cloud of dust greeted Lee as he opened his eyes and coughed rolling off Johnson and settling on his back, taking stock of any possible injuries. The concussion against his back had taken the wind from his lungs, but as he lay there he realized that he wasn't injured and then moved to check on the unconscious admiral.

"Admiral?" Lee called, moving closer and checking his pulse, before assessing him for broken bones. He found his arms and legs sound, but felt the goose egg on the back of Johnson's head as the admiral's head started to move slightly and he coughed hoarsely.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"What happened?" Gerald asked as Lee helped him sit against the wall.

"A bomb, Sir; left in a briefcase under your desk."

"But who?" Johnson asked, still dazed and sporting a pounding headache.

"I don't know for sure Sir, but I'm willing place my bet on Captain Nicolo."

Johnson's forehead furled until it reached the painful sharp remembrance of the explosion, taking a deep breath in and realizing that Nicolo had just left his office.

"Phil Nicolo is on the list, Sir. It's all too convenient for me," Lee clarified as the door to Johnson's office burst open with rescuers from the surrounding ONI offices.

"Don't touch anything," Johnson admonished, "This is a crime scene."

# # # # #

Captain Phil Nicolo left Johnson's office and headed to his own, all the way on the other side of the building. He would be safe from the explosion and he could offer his aid in the "recovery" of Johnson's and Crane's bodies. He had placed a short timer on the bomb, only five minutes to get clear, but it would be enough. He barely reached his office when the explosion hit, rocking the building but causing no damage on his side.

Admiral Perkins came running out of his office. "What was that?"

"I don't know, Sir. I'll try and find out," Nicolo replied dutifully and took off, playing the concerned rescuer. He didn't get far when he heard the alarm signaling a Lock Down; standard operating procedure in the event ONI was compromised. He was about to round the next corner when he heard a commotion in the adjoining hall.

"Seal off the floor and escort Captain Nicolo to Admiral Johnson!"

Nicolo froze in his tracks. He could hear the sounds of oxford shoes jogging toward him and backtracked to the staircase, sliding in and closing the door as naval personnel headed to his office. Phil was breathing heavily from the adrenalin and willed himself into control. _Johnson was alive and had apparently put two and two together; everything was a bust._ It was time to put his emergency 'bug-out' plan into action.

He proceeded up the staircase till he reached the roof; quietly peering around the door and seeing the way clear he moved to retrieve the backpack he had stashed under a false turbine on the roof. He employed all the experience and training of an ONI operative, and quickly engaged his safety line, shooting it across to the neighboring high rise, several floors lower than ONI's building. It connected soundly, so he secured the line on his side. He attached the sliding t-glider and stepped into the safety harness, then strapped the backpack on his back and took hold of the t-glider, allowing gravity to carry him to the neighboring building. Less than twenty seconds later he was stepping out of his harness and heading to the stairwell. Once inside he slid into janitor coveralls to disguise his naval uniform and headed for the elevators. It was an easy ride down as he exited onto the street, noting a bustle of activity at ONI's building with emergency responders, police, and military personnel hustling about. Nicolo melted into the crowd and headed the opposite direction, hailing a cab.

# # # # #

Johnson sat in a secure office, seemingly unaffected by his injuries as marine medics tried to treat his head wound, their job made more difficult as Johnson hadn't relinquished command and was still belting out orders from where he sat. Medics had already checked Lee out and other than a few cuts from flying glass, had deemed him fit.

"We found Nicolo's escape route from the roof. Lift the Lock-Down," Johnson ordered his men and then turned toward Lee.

"Well, you were right Commander," Johnson said as he shooed his medics away and started to rise from his chair. Lee reached down and offered a strong arm which Johnson uncharacteristically took to steady himself.

"Walk with me, Commander," Johnson stated flatly as the room began to clear.

An aide approached Johnson with a radio raised to his ear. "Sir, Admiral Nelson is downstairs requesting permission to enter the building."

"Admit him to the lobby and instruct him to stay put. Commander Crane and I will be right down," Johnson returned as the aide relayed the message over the radio, using much more decorum in his instructions to the auburn-haired Four-Star Admiral.

They entered the hallway as Lee and Gerald walked ahead of the entourage of aides and officers, who were giving their commanding officer the space he wanted to confer with Crane.

"Your hunches were right-on... _again_ , Lee," Johnson said, slightly weary and letting down his command tone to an easier more familiar conversation.

"I wish I hadn't been right this time, Sir. Phil Nicolo and I went back pretty far."

"I understand, but it wasn't just me he was trying to take out of the picture... it was you too."

"Aye Sir," Lee agreed.

They entered the elevator as Johnson indicated to the men following him that they would ride the elevator down alone. The doors closed as Johnson leaned back heavily against the elevator wall and folded his arms across his chest.

"So what's his next move, Commander?"

Lee took a breath in and expelled it. "His connections with the bad guys have been severely damaged; he might never recover from offering the phony goods. His career is over and his life as he knows it. He's a fugitive. If he's smart, he'll take the first option out of the country; if he's not, he'll come after you again, Sir."

"Or you," Johnson stated.

"Perhaps. In any case, I suggest you and your wife be escorted to a safe house until we either apprehend him or verify his leaving the country."

"Not the way I like to do things," Gerald said in a moment of frankness that he rarely took with anyone.

"I know Sir, but I highly encourage you to take my suggestion."

Johnson sighed as the elevator slowed to stop at the lobby. "Very well, but I'm ordering you to do the same. You and Harriman get to that submarine of yours, and remember... Phil Nicolo was one of our best. Whatever he does it will be a challenge to bring him in."

"Aye Sir," Lee agreed with a hint of regret at the betrayal of someone he thought was a friend. It wasn't just _this_ attempt on his life, but the fact that Phil had set him up two years ago for the first double to take his place. If Phil hadn't been on Leave at the time, he most likely would have sold Lee out to Foster on the recent sting.

They stepped out of the elevator and greeted Harry taking a few minutes to bring him up-to-date while in the secure lobby, and then headed for the main exit.

# # # # #

Phil Nicolo couldn't go home ever again and instead, took the cab just a few blocks over to the bus station where he had a locker waiting for a contingency such as this. He had passports and aliases that even ONI didn't know about, complete with enough cash to get him out of the country. There was plenty of money in his Swiss bank account, so all he needed was to enact one of his extraction plans; only Phil Nicolo couldn't leave things as they were. His life was over; everything he had worked for, planned for... everything was gone. He knew who was to blame; he knew who got the best of him. He reached for the slender case and emptied the rest of the contents of the locker, then headed to the men's bathroom to gear up. He emerged fifteen minutes later looking like a sixty year old man with greying hair, bushy eyebrows and a pudgy mid-section. He wore a blue business suit and carried his slender case as if it were a briefcase. Nicolo exited the bus station and headed _not_ for the airport, but back to ONI's building.

Nicolo positioned himself across the street and watched the emergency responders trying to access the building as it was locked down. He looked at his watch and noted the time as he turned and entered the building across the street, where he took up a position in an empty office. As expected, the office was vacated as nearby buildings had been evacuated due to the bomb blast. Nicolo selected an office in perfect view of the front door and opened his slender case, quickly and efficiently assembling the high powered velocity rifle. He pursed his bottom lip as he screwed the silencer into place and then aimed, looking through ONI's large front windows with his high-powered scope. Inside he saw Johnson, Crane and Nelson standing in front of the elevators. All he had to do was wait.

# # # # #

Johnson exited the building first; a car was waiting to take him to a safe house. Harry exited behind him as Lee held the door open and followed after both admirals. Barely a second after Lee cleared the door the first shot hit him high in the right chest, the impact sending him back against the glass door. A second shot found its mark in his side as Lee spun with the inertia of the bullet, a third shot followed him down as he fell, catching him high in the left thigh.

The whole thing happening in quasi-slow motion with Harry turning as the sound of Lee's first grunt queued him to the impending danger. He was facing Lee and saw him take the subsequent silent shots as he hastily moved towards his best friend now lying on his side and breathing raggedly in painful attempts to fill his lungs with air. Harry ignored the sounds of the confusion around him; sounds of pursuit as someone noted the shooter standing in the window across the street.

"Lee!" Harry called moving toward his all-but son and placed a hand on his shoulder speaking in a near whisper into his ear.

"Don't move, Lad! Don't move..."

 **The End – Part One**

Ambushed

 **Author's Notes:** Yes I did it... employed a cliff hanger. Stay tuned for _Ambushed Part II, Shades of Retribution_!

 **Credits:**

My _Edge of Doom Series_ of stories is based upon the Fourth Season episode of the same name, written by William Welch, Directed by Justus Addiss, original air date March 17, 1968.

References made to the Second season episode _, Terror on Dinosaur Island_ , written by William Welch, directed by Leonard Horn, original air date December 26, 1965 _._

 **Copyright 2014, 2017 All Rights Reserved**

 **Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and her main characters belong to Irwin Allen**


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